


Guilty Pleasures

by livverz



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Other, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-22 20:07:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/917517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livverz/pseuds/livverz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which, simply: Stiles has a wet dream about Peter (and then some). What could get better than that?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guilty Pleasures

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RichAtSin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RichAtSin/gifts).



> This was literally a series of texts I sent to my friend a couple of months ago now, trying to make her day a little brighter. It's nothing special, really just another ficlet/drabble. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Stiles’ breaths were coming quick and excited, his head thrown back and mouth wide in a silent scream. His head was clouded with the rush of ecstasy, fleeting images passing through half-lidded eyes. He and Peter were all writhing bodies, chest to chest, face in neck, teeth on skin. Flesh and bone and _moaning_. There was a quiver in his stomach because _fuck_ Peter was close to delivering him the greatest climax of his teenage life. Is this what it felt like to be with a _man?_

If the marks all over were any indication, Stiles was a little mistaken about the ‘man’ part, but- close enough. A werewolf is still mostly human. The pleasure steadily pooled, and then without so much as a warning, it shot through the ceiling- thrusting and panting and tongues intertwined, Stiles unable to catch a breath, and Peter—

Stiles bolted up in bed abruptly, soaked in sweat and huffing heavy breaths. _FUCK_. What the _hell_ was this? He groaned, because sweat wasn’t the only thing soaking him. Seriously? A _wet dream?_ It had been a couple of years since the last one. He shuddered from the goosebumps on his skin, and also because the vivid images of dreamworld still fresh. _Fuck_. He repeated the sentiment as he fell back on the bed and covered his face, thinking the dream felt way too real. _And way too good_.

\------

Stiles had gotten over the shock of waking to find a load in his pants, but the wet dream had still left him shaken. He needed to clean up before it all started to dry, so he waddled his way to the bathroom for a middle of the night shower. As he peeled his boxers off, he gave a small shudder and immediately put them in the hamper. He ran the shower until it was hot, getting in only when it seared his skin. He let the rush of water wash away his tension and delicate bits, lathering up only after his skin had become numb from the heat. As he got into the rhythm of washing his body, he let his eyes slip shut. It was a terrible idea, because he couldn't keep the memory of the dream from passing under his lids; Vivid flashes of Peter's eyes, tongue poking from between his lips obscenely as it searched for Stiles' nipple. He swore he could feel the werewolf's claws in his shoulder blades as real as though the man were actually with him in the shower.

It took Stiles no time at all to grab hold of his hard-again cock, forehead pressed to the wall of the shower, as this time he consciously and willingly fantasized. His lungs began to fill with the steam of water and his pleasure, making it harder to breathe with each heavy-handed stroke. He balled the fist of his free hand and slammed it against the shower wall above his head, before slowly unfurling it and letting his palm slide down the slick surface. 

He swore to himself under his breath, pleasure steadily building, pooling in the pit of his stomach for the second time that night. He could pretend the obscene sound of soap and stroking was instead Peter's luscious mouth, tongue swirling and lips sucking. He could imagine grabbing the man by his _perfect_ fucking hair, until it was so disheveled it made Peter snap at Stiles' hip with sharp fangs, only convincing Stiles that Peter actually relished it. 

If he used his fingers, then they were Peter's, holding nothing back- flush to the wall and unable to escape, laying it all out for the man to take as his rear was utterly ravaged. Throwing his head back, he choked out a strangled moan, climaxing to the image of Peter looming over him- he could feel the man's breath at his neck if he concentrated hard enough. 

As all of his guilty pleasure swirled down the drain, Stiles let go of himself and gave a shudder. He swore again and swallowed a huge lump in his throat, his hand moving to swivel the faucet all the way to 'cold'. Tomorrow there was a Pack meeting, and Peter was going to be there. _Awkward_.


End file.
